


Epitaph on the Tyrant(s)

by sxster_snapped



Series: Dream SMP One-Shots [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Dream Needs A Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Poetry, Jschlatt Needs a Hug, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, POV Death, POV Outsider, Platonic Relationships, Please be nice, Poetry, Retelling, Subscribe to Technoblade, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, and idk what im doing, this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxster_snapped/pseuds/sxster_snapped
Summary: Based on the poem "Epitaph on a Tyrant" by W.H. AudenEvery ruler is a tyrant, but every tyrant is a human.(aka I love poetry and wanted to write something for the Dream SMP)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103711
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Epitaph on the Tyrant(s)

_ " _ _ Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after. . .” _

The world was filled with smoke, the echo of an explosion and ghosts of screams were audible over the silence of the wasteland. Once proud walls were crumbling, bombs planted by a friend destroying the support like the betrayal destroyed morale. The tense victors held weapons at the ready, waiting for the crushed rebellion to show their faces. An injured boy’s face twisted with rage at the cool indifference of the tyrant in green. The deal that was struck made the green tyrant’s ever present smile seem genuine. Two groups left to prepare, friends begging the teen and tyrant to come to their senses. None wanted to see blood stain the path, but all knew that death was coming.

Death greeted the tyrant as an old friend, asking for its newest sacrifice. The smile turned its back on the imperfections, the petty rebellion trying to ruin the beautiful land. Cheers rose from the victors as a scream tore out of the throat of an almost perfect boy clinging to his friend and keeping death away from him. The imperfections struggled home to their imperfect country, but the boy knew the tyrant must fall.

The green tyrant listened as screams rose from the crumbling walls, so different from the pained cries of the day prior. His ever present smile was bitter, blue and white stood on either side of the tyrant confused but ever supportive. His eyes met the leader of the imperfections from behind the smiling mask, and the smile matched the smirk that crept across his face. The green tyrant never wanted pain to fill the lives of the imperfections, but he was willing to wait for them to crush each other. Imperfections never could accept the outcomes, all the tyrant had to do was wait for them to make their own pain.

_ “And the poetry he invented was easy to understand. . .” _

A song once sung in victory became a prison. Words echoed through the mad man’s skull, constantly mocking him with the nostalgic melody. Memories plagued him as he paced in the dark, memories of family, of freedom, war, love, betrayal. The dirty trench coat weighed more than the heaviest of armour, reminding the mad tyrant of his failure. His madness proof of the imperfections that riddled his forever unfinished work of art. The land he raised for freedom’s sake riddled with corruption, filled to the brim with imperfections that could never be removed.

The green tyrant knew the mad tyrant had fallen, pushed just past the point of return by the boy he built the imperfect land with. Too much had been poured into this land for the mad tyrant to be anything but victorious even if it was to end in his death. Bloodshot eyes traced the darkness he lived in, remembering every detail of the walls he had built before his fall.

Death watched two tyrants unite for the cause of ending the life and life long work of the mad one. Bombs planted by a friend were remembered as bombs were planted by a founder ready to finally be able to rest. The green tyrant’s smile taunted the mad tyrant with the song, both begging the mad tyrant to finally allow perfection to return to the riddled and ruined land.

“He knew human folly like the back of his hand. . .”

Bottles, empty bottles fell to the ground at the feet of the broken tyrant. The man desperate for eyes to always fall upon him felt the loss of attention more than the mad tyrant felt the pain of defeat or the green tyrant the pain of imperfection. Abandoned by all, even his love, because of the bottles that plagued his life. The green tyrant’s gaze was felt even when he was alone, the mad tyrant’s presence a constant threat. The broken tyrant knew the boy wasn’t with him, he was truly alone.

Never had a tyrant fallen during their rule like the broken tyrant. The imperfections that riddled the land had riddled his mind and body, corrupting his health and ruining his businesslike mind. The green tyrant knew all of his imperfections, but as his imperfections pushed the mad tyrant further over the edge the green tyrant’s smile seemed to be more truthful.

Death knew that the broken tyrant would accept it with open arms and a crushed heart. Surrounded by the imperfections that ruined his life and his plans for perfecting the ruined land of the mad tyrant. His last words proof of imperfections that ran far deeper than any tyrant could fix, having corrupted even his love into an imperfect mess. The mad tyrant and the green tyrant had a deal, the broken tyrant was hated and unnecessary even with his death.

_ “And was greatly interested in armies and fleets. . .” _

The bloodthirsty tyrant fought them all, striving to bring chaos wherever he went. The green tyrant saw the promise he held and knew the chaos could clean out the imperfections. Desperate imperfections begged the bloodthirsty tyrant to aid them in their time of need, brothers from another time. As the skies filled with smoke and ash and explosions ripped apart the corrupted land the bloodthirsty tyrant’s laugh was heard above the screams.

Never had the land seen such agony as a father slaying his son and a brother being slain by the one who was supposed to protect him. The green tyrant watched the chaos, blue and white and every other color trying to stop it before ruin overtook perfection. The bloodthirsty tyrant told the heroes of their imperfections, their petty flaws, their every wrongdoing against him.

Death feared the bloodthirsty tyrant, staying far away as it collected his victims. The victors and imperfections alike striving to protect the land from the bloodthirsty tyrant. He drove chaos to victory, leaving two broken boys as the only reminder of the imperfections the green tyrant wanted perfected.

_ “When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter, and when he cried the little children died in the streets. . .” _

Two broken boys had grown up under the green tyrant, come of age fighting with the mad tyrant, rose to their strongest against the broken tyrant, and were crushed at the crux of victory by the bloodthirsty tyrant. Together they were tyrants of the imperfections. Imperfect tyrants trying to use imperfection to live. The green tyrant’s smile taunted them, reminding them always of their failure to save their leader turned mad tyrant. Reminding them that they had fallen as the broken tyrant rose, that they had failed as chaos reigned for the bloodthirsty tyrant.

The imperfect tyrants led imperfect lives in their imperfect land. They rose from ashes time and time again. As leaders, they were respected. As friends, they were loved. But as brothers, they were alone. No more tyrants would come to rule as they lived.

Death watched with a kind eye as the imperfect tyrants ruined its job. No victims were claimed by tyrants. No, death was not needed as the imperfect tyrants ruled. It kept a close watch when the green tyrant’s smile would turn towards the memories. It tried to make the mad tyrant forget his madness when the pain plagued him after he had passed. It allowed the broken tyrant to finally let go and move on. The bloodthirsty tyrant kept it busy as it chased him, guarding all imperfections from his chaos. 

The imperfect tyrants never needed death, never called out to me against enemies, but I am content to be able to tell their story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I hope you enjoyed this, if you did please leave a comment with requests! Not all of my fics will be in this format, but I do plan to write a TON more (especially based around the Dream SMP & other MCYTs).  
> Thank you for reading :D


End file.
